


A New Era

by WriterGirl128



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Emperor Keith (sorta??), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, M/M, One shot? Potential story? The world may never know, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 07, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), hybrid keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterGirl128/pseuds/WriterGirl128
Summary: The Empire needs an emperor. Preferably one that won't try to enslave the entire known universe.The Coalition has a plan.Keith is... not a fan, to say the least.(Because the only person who hates the idea of Emperor!Keith more than the fandom is Keith Kogane himself.)





	A New Era

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a drabble so it's super dialogue-heavy, but here we are

…

...

...

Wait.

_Wait._

Keith couldn’t process what he was hearing.

“They—they want me to  _what_?”

Shiro sighed, Altean-mech fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Spearhead the Empire’s reassimilation into the universal alliance,” he repeated slowly.  Tiredly. _For the_   _third time_.

Keith’s eyes were—somehow—both narrowed to slits and blown wide open. His brows furrowed incredulously, in disbelief and confusion and about thirty other shades of panic. “By becoming—”

“—the new Emperor,” Shiro affirmed. “Yeah.”

As if unable to restrain himself, Lance let out a loud guffaw, doubling over on himself with his hands pressed into his stomach. “ _Emperor_   _Keith_ ,” he crowed, breathless amidst his cackling. “Emperor Keith! Can you  _imagine_?”

Keith, for his part, only scowled deeper, setting his jaw and pointedly ignoring the Red Paladin. His eyes cut to Kolivan, and then back to Shiro, still narrowed. “Where the hell did this come from?”

Sighing, Shiro stood, shaking his head as he drew closer. “The Coalition directors are concerned that the power vacuum within the Empire is going to leave us all vulnerable to another attempted coup. Another situation like what happened with—” Shiro’s expression darkened, just a fraction, the slightest hesitation in his voice. “—Sendak. There are still Galra citizens out there who support Zarkon’s regime. The board wants to fill the void, put someone in the position to lead the Galra in the right direction before someone takes the position by force and leads them astray.”

“And the board decided on  _me_?” The wild, unhinged panic was shining through Keith’s voice, now, because  _what the fresh fuck was happening_? He shook his head, hair falling into his face but not caring enough to brush it aside. “Shiro, I can’t  _do_ that _._ I’m no diplomat.”

Shiro’s eyes were tired, and gentle, but oddly firm. Proud, even. “But you are a Paladin.”

“I’m a soldier _,”_ he insisted. “There’s a difference.”

“You’re a leader,” Shiro countered, without a beat.

“I’m not… y’know,  _Galran._ ”

Kolivan took up Shiro’s flank. “Well you’re certainly not human, little one.”

He grit his teeth. He’d meant it physically, socially,  _culturally_. But if they’re getting technical… “I’m a halfbreed _,”_ he corrected.

But Kolivan simply tilted his head. “As was Lotor.”

“And look how well his reign turned out,” Keith snapped at the Blade, and shook his head. “No one wants to have a  _kevak_ ruling them again, especially with how the last one turned out.”

“Not ruling,” Shiro corrected, and Keith shifted his glare to the captain once more. Still, Shiro’s eyes were firm but gentle. “Guiding. And—” His eyebrows drew together. “— _kevak_?”

“A mutt,” Kolivan grunted in disapproval, translating the Galran slur with a frown. “Those of impure blood, as it goes.” The frown hardened, scolding. “You know better than to talk like that.”

“Am I  _wrong_ , Kolivan?” he shot back. “Because the last time I checked, hybrids were kept as pets, and  _slaves_ to the Empire—not crowned as monarchs.” There was a heavy silence after that, and part of Keith hated how sharp the words came out. Another part needed them to realize how  _ridiculous_ this idea was. 

“The only reason Lotor was given a free pass was because he’s Zarkon’s son,” he continued, less harsh, “and even that was pushing it. You can’t honestly expect them to just roll over and let some halfbreed runt take the throne—not when there are plenty of successors who were already lined up, ready to duke it out after the last one inevitably failed.”

Again, there was a tense, heavy silence that trailed his words, and the echo of his voice seemed far too loud in his ears. 

Keith ground his teeth together. They were getting nowhere, and this was a  _terrible_   _idea_. He turned to Shiro, pulling back the edge in his voice. “I’m barely scraping by with leading Voltron as it is. How do you expect me to lead a fucking empire?”

“With  _help_ , Keith.”

As if it was that simple.

Shiro sighed, rubbing at his temple for a moment before speaking. “You’re the Black Paladin, and an agent of the Blade of Marmora. There’s no one more suited to the position than you are.”

There was a strangled sound from somewhere in his throat, and Keith shook his head. “Shiro, you believe the best of people, and I’ve always really admired that about you—but this is a  _really_   _terrible_ _idea_. Who would want to follow me anywhere?”

“I would.” Again, Shiro said it like it was the most simple thing in the world.

Keith was about to open his mouth, to snap something about how that made Shiro a complete idiot, before someone else spoke up. “I would, too.”

His gaze flicked quickly to Hunk, who offered a small shrug. “I mean—you’re already our leader, y’know? But even if you weren’t, I think I’d follow you. I trust you, Keith.”

The breath caught in Keith’s throat, by before he could assess whether or not his heart had stopped beating, Pidge was speaking up, as well.

“The Empire might be really—proud, I guess, when it comes to things like  _bloodlines_  and all that. But if there’s one thing we learned from Prince Loser, it’s that they’re more loyal than they are proud. I hear what you’re saying, but I honestly think most of them will follow whoever’s on the throne.” Her face twisted slightly, then, as if she’d pictured something particularly amusing, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “Though, I can’t see you ever actually  _sitting_  on a throne. That might just be the day hell freezes over, or pigs start flying.”

Keith felt—flushed. Nervous and panicked and hot, because were they… were they actually  _on_   _board_ with this? It kind of sounded like they were on board with this. Did they not see how completely unequipped he was, for a position like that? How  _horrible_ this would turn out? 

“While the idea of trying to cram a crown onto that horrendous mullet is, you know,  _hilarious_ ,” Lance was saying, continuing on despite Keith’s internal panic, “I… don’t actually think it’s a terrible idea?”

Keith snapped his eyes to the Red Paladin, accusing. “You’re the one that was just laughing about it!”

“Yes,” Lance agreed, eyebrows raised, “because I was picturing them  _trying to cram a crown onto your horrendous mullet_. Also because you’re the guy that once threw five knives at a practice dummy’s head because I ate the last of Hunk’s space-pizza, and someone with your temper shouldn’t be given an entire  _Empire_  to manage.”

Keith gestured at him vaguely, looking to Shiro as if to say  _see_? For once, he and Lance were on the same page, and that must’ve meant  _something_.

“But _—”_  Lance continued on, and Keith groaned.

“Why  _but_?” he moaned, dropping his head back and closing his eyes towards the ceiling.

“—I do see why you’d be the best choice for the job?” Lance finished, and at least had the decency to sound a little sheepish about it. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a terrible diplomat and carry way too many weapons for anyone’s comfort. But—as much as it pains me to admit—you… really are a great leader, space ninja. We couldn’t have won this war if it wasn’t for you. If anyone can steer the Empire straight, it’s you and your knife fetish.”

 _“I do not have a_ —” Keith cut himself off, in an attempt to keep at least  _some_  of his dignity intact. In desperation, he turned, and sent a pleading glance towards Allura. “Princess? Please tell me you see how horrible this plan is?”

But Allura hesitated, expression pulling into a soft frown, and Keith knew he was outmatched. “It…  _would_  eliminate some potentially dangerous variables,” she said carefully, slowly, as if to herself, before her eyes flicked to his. She tilted her head, apologetically. “It would put the Coalition at ease, knowing the head of the Empire as one of the resistance’s key players. Someone who served as well as a Blade, against their own blood.”

Gritting his teeth, Keith gestured to Kolivan, but didn’t pull his gaze from the Altean’s. “There are other Blades,” he reminded her. “Blades, full-blooded Galra, that are a hundred times more suitable to ruling—sorry—”

—his gaze flicked to Shiro’s—

“— _guiding_ an empire.”

But Allura simply looked apologetic, if a little sad, as Kolivan stepped forward. “The Blade of Marmora has suffered a great loss.” There was that odd tone, in his voice, that weird gentleness to his words that Keith had only heard a handful of times before. “Our ranks are thinned now worse than ever. Our remaining agents need to be focused on recruitment, and maintaining the peace where we can—not steering our lost brethren to shore.”

Kolivan took a step closer to him still, dropping his voice in that serious way that he did, and Keith’s heart hammered in his throat. “We’re a people of tradition, little one,” he told him solemnly. “Empire and Blade alike, the Galra have always held steadfast in their ways. Plans for the next Kral Zera have already been made, an arena on Feyiv already chosen, a date already set. It would be foolish to assume that Sendak was the last of those who wish to see Zarkon’s plans through to the end.”

“Which means,” Shiro continued, watching Keith carefully, “we need to assume there are dangerous candidates that are going to be vying to light that torch. We can try and discredit the ceremony all we like as a coalition, but to an empire that’s been in power for over ten-thousand years, we aren’t going to get very far.”

“Which means we need our own candidate,” Allura concluded, stepping forward as well. “We need someone we know, someone we trust. Because at the end of the day, they’ll follow their tradition—they’ll  _follow_ whoever lights the Kral Zera.”

There was a lump in Keith’s throat, and he wasn’t sure when was the last time he’d taken a breath, but he was getting lightheaded. He took a step back, trying to focus, trying to suppress the tightness coiling around his lungs. 

“So…  _everyone’s_ on board with this,” he observed numbly, and nodded. “Great. Yeah. Sure. Let’s just—let’s just go to Feyiv now, then. I mean, why not, right? Just hand over some of that fun purple fire and point me towards the altar.  _No big deal.”_

Again, for what felt like the thousandth time in the course of like,  _thirty ticks,_ Shiro sighed. “Keith,” he said, and where he’d been expecting something that  _chastisement,_ there was only patience. “Look, we—we know it’s crazy.”

“It’s not crazy,” Keith denied, “it’s impossible _._ I can’t be an  _emperor,_ Shiro—I can barely take care of  _myself._ I set off the fire alarms making eggsthis morning! You really want me to be in charge of an empire currently dominating the majority of the  _universe?”_

 _“_ Not alone,” Kolivan assured him, and placed a large, clawed hand on his shoulder. “Never alone, little one. We have a team in place ready to act as advisors, and as lawkeepers. It’s not necessarily that they want you to  _govern,_ exactly, moreso act as a… placeholder. To prevent someone of worse intentions from undoing the progress we’ve made thus far.”

And that…

…was the first thing that even  _remotely_ made sense to Keith in this entire fucking conversation. 

His breath left him in a rush. 

So they didn’t actually want him to  _be_ the emperor, they just—

—wanted him to… be the emperor. But not  _really._

Which was. A lot, still, but… more okay. 

Okay- _er_.

Kind of.

“That’s not to say that you wouldn’t be  _serving_ as the emperor,” Kolivan clarified, crushing his relief where it stood. “Because you would. You’d still be the commanding officer of the armies, and you’d have the say on plays of diplomacy. You’d just be ruling—ahem,  _guiding—_ with the Coalition by your side.”

He swallowed. “What about Voltron?” he asked, and was surprised at how steady his voice actually stayed. The words felt surreal, even as they left his tongue, as if he was actually  _considering_ what they were saying, which was also,  _y’know,_ a lot to process. Steeling his resolve, he set his jaw. “Because I’m not leaving the team.” 

His gaze drifted to Shiro, meeting his eyes for only a tick before flicking to Hunk’s. “Not again,” he promised, holding the Yellow Paladin’s eyes. Then Pidge’s. Then Allura’s. When he finally landed and lingered on Lance’s gaze, he shook his head, resolute. “Never again.”

In truth, he still had Lance’s voice in the back of his head. “ _Why don’t you just drift off by yourself, Mr. Lone Wolf?”_ the voice barked, and if the guilty look on Lance’s face was any indication, he was thinking about the same thing.

Kolivan’s hand pulled away from his shoulder, breaking him out of the odd reverie. “Voltron needs it’s Black Paladin,” the Blade assured him. “It is simple. Arrangements would be made. We will find a way. Assistance from the Coalition, from the Blades, from our rebel allies. We can find a way to make it work.”

Keith lifted his gaze to Kolivan’s. It was strange—the first time he’d met Kolivan, or  _any_ Galra, really, he’d believed their eyes to be… blank. A cruel, solid yellow that nearly glows in the absence of light. An emotionless, painted wall with no pupils or irises to speak of. He thought they’d be so much harder to interpret, so much more difficult to follow, but… in an odd way, it was almost  _easier._ Easier to distinguish one emotion from the other, using eye shape, or the way that the eyebrows above were pinched. 

And right now, his eyes were open. Supportive and round and encouraging—and much, much gentler than Keith ever knew Kolivan to be.

“I’m not leaving Voltron,” he repeated, just as adamant, but a little softer. “I don’t regret my time with the Blades, Kolivan, and I appreciate everything you’ve taught me, but I left the team before and it was a  _mistake._ A mistake I don’t plan on making again.”

“And you won’t have to,” Shiro assured him from his other side. “Keith, we’d never just send you out there to fix everything on your  _own.”_

Keith winced, slightly. “No, I know, I just—” He broke off. Again, he let out a rush of air, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “This is a lot. This is—really a lot.”

“Like Kolivan said,” Allura assured him, steady and soft. “We would find a way to make it work.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, “listen to your Galra Dad, mullet. No one’s leaving Voltron.”

And despite the rapid-fire beating of his heart, the nervous sweat he felt beading on his forehead, the flush heating his neck and ears and cheeks, Keith  _somehow_  found the strength to zero in on Lance as he dropped his arms to his sides in shock. “What the— _Galra_   _Dad_?”

Lance, unbothered and forever taking pride in his ability to push Keith’s buttons, merely shot him a dry grin. “I mean—yeah! Haven’t you seen him and Krolia together? They’re like, the power couple to end all power couples. Imagine how badass their  _kits_  would turn out—”

From his side, Kolivan made a strangled kind of noise, and Keith shook his head vigorously, not really needing  _any part of that visual thank you very much_.

“Seriously, though,” Lance continued on, unhindered, and the teasing tone in his voice sobered into something more serious. “We’ve got your back. You’re a great leader, samurai—if anyone can do this, you can.”

Keith tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. “I don’t know.”

But despite his uncertainty, the rest of them just kind of… watched him. Expectant and almost fiercely supportive, and Keith—

—well, he  _did_  kind of understand some of the points they’d made? It certainly would put people at ease, to have someone clearly aligned with the Coalition taking the reins. And in a way, he’d already  _started_  doing that, simply by leading Voltron. Which was—still a work in progress, sure, still something he was learning how to do. But something he’d never imagined himself accomplishing as successfully as he was.

With an all-too reluctant sigh, Keith turned back to Shiro. “I still think this is a terrible idea,” he said, a warning. “There’s going to be backlash and mutiny and it’s going to create a whole new set of problems that we have to deal with.”

“And we’ll deal with them,” Shiro assured him, but Shiro’s always been able to read him like a fucking book, and there was that steady kind of determination in his eyes again. Dark eyes, darker still against the shock of snowy hair, and part of Keith still felt guilty about everything that had gone down while another part of him knew that despite everything, Shiro would always have his back, he’d rise from the dead again and again to have his back, and that made him feel  _safe_.

And the Paladins were watching him, too, just as steady and supportive, and Kolivan was a solid presence at his side, and it was weird because he’d never really had this many people  _believing_   _in_   _him_ all at once, before, and it made something in his chest lurch because it was actually really… nice.

There was a beat of silence before Keith dropped his head into a slow nod. “This is still a terrible idea,” he warned again, “and I reserve the right to shove it in all of your faces when things inevitably go to shit.”

A grin cracked over Shiro’s face. “Duly noted,” he acknowledged, looking all-too-pleased with himself. “Is that a yes?”

“That’s a solid ‘I’ll do my best to not get killed during the Kral Zera, and we’ll see what happens’.” He hesitated, glancing at Kolivan wearily. “When’s the ceremony?”

Kolivan, for his part, also seemed to be stifling a proud smile. “A little over a movement from today,” he informed. “We have our work cut out for us, little one, if we want you prepared to duel the fiercest of the Empire’s warlords.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Maybe we should start by scrapping the nickname,” he muttered. “I’m not even that  _small.”_

Kolivan only chortled, fond, but before Keith could protest further there was an arm sliding over his shoulders, and a voice by his ear. “Emperor Keith,” it said, and there was a teasing gleam in Lance’s eyes when he looked over. “Still hilarious, you know. Krolia should’ve fought for the whole Yorak thing—much more fitting, for a sovereign.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but made no move to squirm out from his grasp. “Shut up about my name, already,” he complained, though there wasn’t really any heat to it. “I told you that in  _private_.”

But the deed was done, and across the room, Pidge dissolved into giggles. “Yorak!” she laughed, as if in disbelief. “ _Yorak_   _Kogane_!”

Keith settled her with a glare. “My mom says it’s a perfectly respectable Galran name,” he defended, even though the idea of almost bearing it for his whole life still made him want to cringe. He moved his glare to Lance, turning his head slightly to catch startlingly blue eyes. “If this stupid plan works, you’re the first one I’m banishing, sharpshooter.”

Lance just grinned wider, flashing pretty white teeth, and offered a shrug. “Hey—so long as it means I don’t have to hand-feed grapes to your royal ass, banish away.”

Keith groaned, flopping his head back again to glare up the ceiling, and he felt a large, cool hand ruffle his hair, heard the soft whir of cybernetic fingers. “Alright, team,” Shiro chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do. We’ll ready the Atlas, head out in a few quintants. Next stop: Feyiv.”

Keith straightened again, glancing at Shiro nervously, but there was a steady determination in his brother’s eyes when they caught each other’s gazes.

“It’s time to end this war,” Shiro told him, resolute. “Once and for all.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will say, I'm not a huge fan of the Emperor Keith hc, but there's been a lot of speculation lately and all I could picture was my poor, sword child absolutely panicking at the thought of someone handing him an entire empire to govern
> 
> Like seriously
> 
> Someone please help him
> 
> (Also, possible continuation? This might be an AU chapter-series. Idk yet. Stay tuned.)


End file.
